


just a touch

by anyadisee



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Character Study, M/M, at least i think that's what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 17:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9000694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyadisee/pseuds/anyadisee
Summary: They’ve run through the next series of steps even before practicing with the music, when Viktor was trying to figure out how to incorporate a second skater into the routine. The lift comes more easily this time, unlike the first time they tried and Yuuri got too startled at the actual feeling of being lifted, and they both fell into a laughing heap on the ice, Yuuri smiling shyly as he shifted his weight above Viktor and tried to pull himself back up on his feet. Viktor had been endlessly charmed.But now, he gets flashbacks of the banquet instead, of dancing with Yuuri like they didn’t have any other care in the world. In some ways, this feels just like that – the thrill of being so close, of touches ranging from fleeting to lingering, of moving with each other like they were made for it. It’s reminiscent of the night Viktor got lost in someone else’s arms, and everything changed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> oh wow, i knew i'd end up here eventually.
> 
> yoi ep12 was beautiful and everything i've ever wanted and i still get stupidly emotional about it so i had to write these Feelings out and it somehow turned into a kind of character study for viktor?? i'm not sure if i Did That Right though, but here you go!!
> 
> there's like half an hour left before viktor's birthday in my timezone but i'm posting this now because i might not have time to tomorrow and it's a bit rushed but!! these two are Too Much and i had Emotions i didn't know what else to do with!!!!!! viktuuri is so beautiful!!!!!!!!!!!

Viktor’s life has been a constant, for the most part.

The ice, for one thing, is an ever-present element that pervades every aspect of his life (though, to be honest, there aren’t very many aspects to begin with). Viktor has known it ever since he learned to comprehend the notion of things, growing up in the freezing embrace of Russia, and he’s become intimate with the cold early on as a result. The rink is vast and to conquer it meant multiple stumbles for most people, but Viktor took on the ice almost like it was second nature. He liked the feeling of gliding, of soaring with his arms raised high and his legs outstretched, of jumping and spinning and landing fluidly as the cold welcomed him back, his reflection in the ice moving with him and keeping him company until the dark hours of the night.

It took a while for him to realize that the ice is a cycle. It’s endless yet confined within the boundaries of the rink, and no matter how many laps Viktor skates there will never be a clear starting point or end point. And for what it represents, the same could be said. The ice means practicing, competing, and winning. And then there’s repetition. It’s a simple and constant formula.

Maybe Viktor didn’t mind that, at first. Not when he won his first gold in the Seniors category, and the awed surprise people expressed at his achievement flowed endlessly for months. Not when he was right at the peak of his career, camera flashes bright and cheers for his name loud. Certainly not when he found himself on the podium, first place for the third consecutive time, gold hanging bright and proud around his neck.

He viewed each program like a new beginning, like an opportunity to both surprise people and enable himself to move forward. But somewhere between all the gold and the achievements and the expectations and awe that became more custom than anything, with the ice being the biggest constant that is probably the closest thing he has to a home, something within him frayed around the edges and made him hesitate. Made him realize that maybe he’s been stuck in a single place all along.

He never had to rely on other people. Yakov has said so himself that Viktor never listened. To Viktor, there’s always been him and the ice and Makkachin.

Maybe that’s why it took him so long to actually take a step and move forward.

Maybe that’s why it took being jarred into motion by something unexpected, something bigger and foreign and more surprising than Viktor could have ever hoped himself to be.

 

*

 

The music fades into its final notes and Yuuri stands still in the middle of the ice, one hand raised towards Viktor, the other lifted to his chest. The rise and fall of his shoulders with every dragging breath is starting to become more obvious now, and Viktor thinks that even with Yuuri’s remarkable stamina, running the same routine over and over has definitely taken its toll on the younger skater.

Viktor claps his hands once. “That was wonderful, Yuuri. You can take a break now.”

He watches Yuuri sag and wipe the sweat from his forehead with the back of a hand, waiting for him to skate over where Viktor’s standing by the music player. Viktor wordlessly hands him a water bottle once he’s close enough, and Yuuri accepts it with a small, grateful smile. His cheeks are flushed with exertion and his hair is sticking to his damp forehead, and Viktor quietly takes in the sight of him with eyes that never tire.

Outside, the sun has begun its descent, the light coming in through the windows becoming more faded. Soon it’ll be orange out, and the artificial lights inside the rink will come on.

“Yuuri,” Viktor says, prepared to launch into his usual assessment of Yuuri’s performance. But when Yuuri looks up at him, eyes squinted just so due to his lack of glasses and the light painting him something golden, Viktor finds the words tapering off into a gentle hum on his tongue, filling his mouth with a quiet kind of contentment instead. He smiles. “Great work today.”

Yuuri smiles slightly, a hint of something thoughtful at the corner of his mouth. These days, Viktor likes to think that he’s gotten to know Yuuri even better. There’s still a lot going on in Yuuri’s head that Viktor can’t quite catch, moments where Yuuri’s thought process seems to be working on an entirely different wavelength than Viktor’s, but they’re both working on meeting in the middle. Viktor knows that much. He’s gone a long way from the clueless coach that he was, trying to get Yuuri to open up by inviting him to do everything with him, from eating at the ramen place he likes so much to sleeping together on the same bed. That talk by the ocean certainly helped.

(Before Yuuri, Viktor doesn’t think he’s ever been this determined to be attuned with another person’s thoughts. There were a lot of things, outside of what was strictly required on the ice, that Viktor didn’t do or want or _need_ , before Yuuri.)

Right now, he can tell that there’s something on Yuuri’s mind. But it’s not of the persistently heavy kind, the ones that weigh so much on Yuuri that he ends up withdrawing from everyone. This is something more thoughtful, something that maybe Yuuri will willingly bring up instead of having Viktor pry it out of him.

“Are we done for today?” Yuuri asks.

Viktor thinks back on Yuuri’s earlier performance and nods. “I think we are. Unless you want to go again? Take a break first if you do, though.”

Yuuri steps off the ice and puts the guards back on his skates. He leans against the railing around the rink, reaching for his glasses and slipping them on his face, still with that thoughtful look. Viktor waits patiently for him to speak, leaning his hip against the railing and toying absently with the tissues from his custom-made Makkachin dispenser.

The rink is eerily quiet without the music coming from the speakers or even the sound of blades gliding on the ice, and Viktor thinks back on all the moments he’s spent alone in the rink, back in Russia. When breathing in the air of his apartment became too loud or the sounds of activity coming from the neighbors going about their daily lives became overbearing, like a reminder that people outside of Viktor had multiple facets of their lives to maneuver and experience, while all Viktor had was his skating.

Makkachin helped a lot with alleviating that, he thinks. Having another presence in the apartment, even if non-human, did plenty to settle him down at nights and mornings where he has time off from the ice.

“I think I want to practice a little more,” Yuuri says, finally, low and reminiscent of the time he told Viktor that he wants to eat pork cutlet bowls with him if he won the Onsen on Ice event. That feels like ages ago, yet not, the memory vivid in Viktor’s head as though he’s caught it on record. Yuuri isn’t looking at Viktor, but there’s determination in the look in his eyes and in the way his brows furrow. “I’ve been thinking of… something.”

“Oh?” Viktor blinks, curious.

Yuuri seems to get that sudden burst of confidence he sometimes does, at the most opportune of moments. It’s the same kind that made him declare that he’d give the Onsen on Ice performance all the eros he’s got and that he’d prove that he’s stronger with the power of love by winning a gold medal in the Grand Prix Final. It’s something that endears Viktor even more to him.

“The exhibit after the Grand Prix Final,” Yuuri says, and Viktor perks up in interest, “I might have an idea for what I… for what _we_ can do.”

Viktor feels a surge of emotion. It’s something he can’t name, something completely new and foreign to him, but it fills him with warmth. Sometimes, looking at Yuuri makes his chest feel fit to burst, full of things he’s both experiencing for the first time and rediscovering. “What did you have in mind, Yuuri?”

They still have the Rostelecom Cup. But with Yuuri’s performance in the Cup of China, and with how much work he’s been putting into their training, Viktor is confident that they’ll make into the Final.

Yuuri falters, looks away, seems to make up his mind, and looks back once more. He pushes himself up from the railing and faces Viktor, shoulders squared, cheeks still slightly red.

Not for the first time, Katsuki Yuuri manages to surprise Viktor, enough to make him want to kiss him again.

This time though, Yuuri beats him to it.

 

*

 

_Be my coach, Viktor._

Viktor often replays that single line in his head. And perhaps just as often, he thinks about how differently things would have turned out if he left the banquet early the year before.

Not because he likes to dwell on the possibilities, no. None of the drunk dancing would have happened. No battles on the cleared floor space, the rest of the guests turned into mere spectators by the then-hurricane that was Katsuki Yuuri in various states of undress. No swinging on poles in impressive displays of arm and thigh strength, champagne bottles popped open and pooling on the expensively-tiled flooring. No drunkenly-confident hand or deeply-flushed face or brightly-lit eyes reaching out, encouraging Viktor to step onto the makeshift dance floor and lose himself in the moment. No one to sweep him off of his feet in every sense of the word.

Katsuki Yuuri came barging into Viktor’s life and disrupted the consistency, shook the very foundations of what Viktor has gotten used to for so many years, and left him wondering about all the possibilities the world has to offer beyond the ice.

Viktor wouldn’t be here if he immediately left. Not in Hasetsu, not in the Ice Castle that they’ve made their home rink, not in Katsuki Yuuri’s presence. Viktor would probably, definitely, still be in Russia. Training under Yakov, watching over Yuri’s progress, half-heartedly mastering routines that don’t really take much time to master.

They aren’t welcome thoughts. Viktor doesn’t want to imagine not having what he has now, not being able to move forward and find a new place and be where he currently is. So that’s certainly not the reason he wonders a lot about that big _what if_ , about that _thank god I didn’t._

It’s a recurring thought for the very reason that Viktor is always with Yuuri. Looking at him, at any given moment, sends Viktor’s thoughts into a spiral of _wow, you’re beautiful,_ and _I want to spend all the time I can with you,_ and, most prominently, _just how did I get here?_

How would he have gotten here, if not for the banquet? If not for everything that happened after that Final? Is Viktor drunk enough on this newfound romance to think that he would’ve found Yuuri anyway? Or that Yuuri would’ve found him? Sure, Yuuri sends his heart racing like a quick succession of steps, makes his pulse run like a complex sequence of footwork on the ice, turns most of his thoughts into ideas of golden rings and promises of forever masked as never retiring from the sport, but that’s all after Yuuri.

And if not for the banquet, there wouldn’t have been an after Yuuri.

Everything, the rest of his life, would have just been one long and dragging and constant _before_.

Now that Viktor has gotten a taste of a world where he can experience love and life in its fullest, he doesn’t ever want to go back to a _before_ with only him and the ever-present ice to keep him company.

 

*

 

Viktor has seen this play out before.

But watching through the screen of his phone is nothing compared to witnessing the real thing, right in front of his eyes.

Yuuri stands on the center of the ice, the lights coming from the windows cutting uneven rectangles on its surface. It’s early in the morning, and the music softly drifting from the speakers is familiar yet different, something that Viktor has initially listened to and saved away in his music library what feels like centuries ago, when he had been trying to choose the music to use for his free program.

(He had decided to set this one aside and chose a different version, one that spoke more of one-sided longing and a near-violent kind of bitterness towards those fortunate enough to experience the feeling of being held. But now, in this time, this one is more fitting to the story Yuuri is trying to tell. To the story _they’re_ trying to tell.)

Yuuri looks up at the opening notes, expression longing and _beautiful_ , always beautiful, and then he’s doing the steps that Viktor himself has done countless of times in the past. Viktor can already envision it playing out at a grander rink, Yuuri clad in something similar to the outfit Viktor has worn for his own free program. A different shade, perhaps, a different color, a few added touches here and there. Maybe blue and gold, or even silver. But definitely blue. Viktor imagines it, the light catching on the sheer fabric, the color turning darker as it progresses downwards. He’ll look so breathtaking in the lights.

But here, in the privacy of their home rink, there’s already something stunning about him. In his training clothes with minimal lighting and movements that could still do some refining, Yuuri skates and grabs all of Viktor’s attention and makes it impossible to look away.

Viktor hears his cue, notes perfectly when the music signals his entrance. But he purposely doesn’t skate into the routine, continuing to watch Yuuri instead. Yuuri, who never fails to steal his breath and make him feel like he’s on a precipice, on the edge of something bigger.

Yuuri turns, expecting Viktor to be there, and stops once he realizes that Viktor is still standing off to the side. Probably like a lovestruck fool, because that’s definitely what Viktor feels like at the moment.

“Viktor,” is all Yuuri says, but it holds a question.

Viktor looks at him a second longer, before stopping the music and playing it again from the start. “Sorry,” he says, not the least bit apologetic.

Yuuri starts again. He’s getting better at his jumps, gaining more confidence in the buildup, landing more steadily and gracefully afterwards. It won’t take long until he’s absolutely _soaring_ above the ice, Viktor thinks. And maybe, if Viktor’s lucky enough, he’ll get to fly right with him.

This time, he skates towards Yuuri when he hears his cue. Yuuri’s hand comes up to rest on the side of his neck for one brief moment, before Viktor is taking Yuuri’s hand in his own.

They’ve run through the next series of steps even before practicing with the music, when Viktor was trying to figure out how to incorporate a second skater into the routine. The lift comes more easily this time, unlike the first time they tried and Yuuri got too startled at the actual feeling of being lifted, and they both fell into a laughing heap on the ice, Yuuri smiling shyly as he shifted his weight above Viktor and tried to pull himself back up on his feet. Viktor had been endlessly charmed.

But now, he gets flashbacks of the banquet instead, of dancing with Yuuri like they didn’t have any other care in the world. In some ways, this feels just like that – the thrill of being so close, of touches ranging from fleeting to lingering, of moving with each other like they were made for it. It’s reminiscent of the night Viktor got lost in someone else’s arms and everything changed.

But at the same time, there are differences.

Viktor knows Yuuri more now. Perhaps not completely, not yet, but _more._ And he knows it’s the same way for Yuuri, that the younger skater has discovered parts of Viktor beyond the image of _Viktor Nikiforov,_ living ice skating legend. Yuuri has seen Viktor as a real and tangible person, and there’s great comfort in that.

There’s something else in their movements, something quiet yet charged, soft yet demandingly-present. It builds up with every spin, every touch that almost feels like it’s teasing, so much that when Yuuri reaches up to gently touch Viktor’s face in something like a caress, Viktor can’t help but close his eyes and melt into it.

He doesn’t ever want to let go.

He places a hand above Yuuri’s on his cheek and makes the touch stay. Yuuri seems surprised but doesn’t protest, and they end up spinning in slow circles on the ice as the music plays on. Viktor feels vaguely like a teenager out on his first dance, but also like an adult finally realizing what love is.

And, _wow_. This is love, isn’t it? This is being alive.

He pulls Yuuri closer to him, hand circling around the younger skater’s waist to rest on the small of his back. Yuuri goes with the motion until they’re pressed chest to chest, not a sliver of space left between them.

Viktor opens his eyes.

Yuuri is looking up at him with eyes that shine, eyes that seem like they’re searching. He’s absolutely beautiful. Viktor has already thought this, over and over and over, but he’s struck breathless with the realization every time. _Just how did I get here?_

“Viktor?” Yuuri says, half a question.

Viktor leans in.

He hears the slight stutter in Yuuri’s breath, but he also feels it in the sudden and short burst of warmth against his face. Yuuri’s cheeks are flushed, but his eyes aren’t shy. They’re waiting, warm. Welcoming. The hand on Viktor’s face shifts ever so slightly, a thumb brushing over the skin beneath his eye.

Then Viktor leans in, even closer.

Yuuri kisses warmth against his mouth, presses and presses until he’s consumed all of Viktor’s senses and set his heart on fire.

The music continues on, a duet of voices to accompany the duet of their heartbeats.

 

*

 

The last time Viktor skated to this song, he had been alone on the ice, going through the motions like he usually would, throwing himself into the performance and earning a remarkable score because that’s what people expected of him and, somewhere along the way, that’s what he’s come to expect of himself, too.

But when Yuuri skates with him in front of everyone, wearing an outfit patterned on Viktor’s own free program costume, none of those expectations matter anymore. Yuuri is here on the ice, and he’s here to stay by Viktor’s side.

It doesn’t feel like falling. Viktor has already fallen in love with Yuuri, countless of times in the months that they’ve spent together, so he knows what that would feel like. This isn’t that.

Instead it’s soaring, like love transcending, like finally breaking out of the cycle and discovering something new, a place that’s bigger and wider and now within reach. Viktor holds onto the feeling the same way he holds onto Yuuri, and hopes that neither of them ever have to leave.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! <3
> 
> cry with me about viktor and yuuri and yuri on ice in general on tumblr [@anyadisee](http://anyadisee.tumblr.com/) and on twitter also [@anyadisee](https://twitter.com/anyadisee)!!


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